Monday, 16th of April

And so today, after six months – periods of which I have felt truly desperate inside - I ended my therapy with Louise.
I think she was surprised at how calmly and succinctly I ended it. But then I think she was surprised at how confidently I walked into her room, sporting my new found aura of control. Hurriedly – as she could see my determination not to have a full session – she reached for my file and asked me about some of the problems I’ve had in the last months. The first thing she raised were my dreams, and I told her that I was calmer about those. Flicking through the pages she asked how I now felt about Alison, I said that she had gone but I was over it now. What about Julie? We’re still in touch, I told her, so we’ll have to see what happens there.

Louse stared up from her file clearly a little lost. I think she thought I was the kind of patient who would be there for twenty years, that I’d be around to fund her pension. And now I was walking those years of potential treatment out of the door.

I didn’t want to stay long as I knew that if she enquired, it wouldn’t take much pressing for me to tell her that the good feeling came from my realisation that what’s happening inside my head is a puzzle and I have to solve it. Of course she wouldn’t see that as rational. And I knew that when the questions came, the therapy session wouldn’t stop where I wanted it to - but instead go on as she made sure I appreciated all her concerns. So even though she was still burrowing through her notes of our sessions, I smiled her a big grin and stood up purposefully.

She had been a great help to me, I told her, and I greatly appreciated it. Then I shook her hand and left her room for good.

Whatever is going on in my head cannot be solved by simple therapy, it is something much bigger than that and a challenge I must face in my own way.